


bartender (i really did it this time)

by writtenrevolution



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bartender AU, Drunk Thoughts, Drunken Confessions, Explicit Language, Human Disaster Castiel, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Music, Lost Love, M/M, Matchmaker Sam Winchester, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Wedding, Whiskey on the Rocks, no hunting au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-10 01:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18928963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenrevolution/pseuds/writtenrevolution
Summary: "Uh, can I get a whiskey on the rocks, and like four shots of tequila?”The man arches an eyebrow, nodding. “Sure thing. Rough night?”Castiel isn’t one to spill his innermost thoughts and feelings to strangers, but Meg’s not back in California until the 21st, and the bartender has such a charming familiarity to him, that Castiel thinks spilling his secrets over alcohol isn’t the worst idea he’s had tonight. And besides, it sort of comes with the territory of being a bartender.“That’s an understatement.” Castiel replies, voice dry, “Let me get drunk and I’m sure I’ll tell you all about it.”In which Castiel’s been in love with Dean since high school, and 14 years later finds himself spilling his regrets to a bartender. A bartender who may or may not be Dean’s little brother.





	bartender (i really did it this time)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I cooked up on my drive home from work. 
> 
> Title comes from Rehab's "Bartender" naturally. 
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Indifferent? I'd love to know.

The wedding is on a Friday. Castiel hangs around during the reception, watching Gabriel and Kali laugh over champagne and twirl across the ballroom to George Michaels. He’s happy for them, honestly, but the image brings back emotions that are hard to stomach. Castiel sees his brother, smiling and happy, fawning over his beautiful bride with so much undigestible pride in his face. He sees Kali, her eyes plastered to Gabe’s face, a smile stretched so large that he wonders if her jaw is aching. They look like the picturesque couple that everyone raves about, the couple that everyone wants to be, and it reminds him of what he wanted, what he could have had, and what he lost. Kali is breathtaking in her floor length Cinderella white gown, and Gabriel is a prince charming of his own in a tux that Cas knows he spent two entire paychecks on. The light glints off Gabriel’s golden wedding ring as he caresses Kali’s face, and Castiel wonders what color ring he himself would have chosen.

He stays until the vast majority of their close friends and family are drunk, making sure everyone has a designated driver or enough cash to call a cab. When it becomes clear that the reception is headed straight for debauchery, Castiel decides to make his exit.

He finds Gabriel and Kali at the head table, completed enraptured in each other, and he clears his throat while approaching.

“Cassie, you heading out already?” Gabe asks, his eyes glinting with so much happiness that Castiel’s chest aches.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.” He lies, knowing he doesn’t leave until the early afternoon, “I just wanted to congratulate you again. Words cannot describe how happy I am for you both.”

Gabriel withdraws himself from Kali’s hands and stands up to tug his brother into a hug. Castiel fists his hands in the back of Gabe’s tux, revealing in the comforting smell of his brother’s cologne. When Gabriel pulls back just enough to offer Castiel another smile, he realizes that he might be the worst brother in existence. This is Gabe’s day. This is his one special day, and all Castiel can do is relive the past.

“I’m really glad you flew out,” Gabriel tells him, “It means a lot to us that you came.”

“Of course I came, Gabe. You drive me insane more than half the time, but your family, and I’m always going to be here for you.”

Gabe pulls him close once more, only for a moment, and Castiel sighs a breath.

“I love you, little bro.” Gabriel’s words are soft and almost whispered.

He returns the sentiment before letting his brother pull away. Kali wraps her thin arms around him almost as soon as he lets go, and Castiel knows he’s lucky to have such a good sister-in-law.

“Thanks for coming, Cas. Let us know when you get back to your hotel.” She tells him, pecking him quickly on the cheek before sitting back down beside Gabe.

“I will. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Gabriel throws an absolutely lascivious wink his way, “We will.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh, turning from their table so he can finally get the hell out of here. He manages to make it outside without running into anyone else that might try to pull him into a conversation, and for that, he is grateful. The walk to his car is slightly chilly, and he pulls at the sleeves of his jacket, longing for the warm California weather he misses so much. Once in his car, he realizes that going back to the hotel is pointless. His flight doesn’t leave until 3, and there’s no way he’ll actually go to sleep this early. More than likely, he’ll lie in bed mopping, and he’d much rather do that some place with alcohol.

A quick google search shows him a bar that’s close enough to his hotel that if he ends up getting ridiculously smashed, he can walk back. He programs the directions to Rocky’s into his phone and pulls out of the parking lot.

The first raindrop hits his windshield when he’s pulling into Rocky’s, and Castiel thinks that it’s the perfect reflection of his mood. Castiel feels tired, nostalgic, with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. He blames the wedding blues.

He makes it inside just as the heavens unleash, rain pelting hard against the glass windows like the hurt and sorrow pound against his soul.

God, he’s really got to stop with the shitty metaphors.

Rocky’s is the picture of a classic Kansas bar. The lights are dim, the bar is smokey, and Patsy Cline is crooning about heartbreak on the jukebox in the back. He takes a seat on one of the rusty looking stools by the bar and signals the man working.

“Hey there, what can I get you?” The bartender asks, tucking a piece of long hair behind his ear. He’s attractive, too tall to blend into the background, with a face that looks oddly familiar. It shouldn’t, he hasn’t been home to Kansas in years and most of his classmates have moved far away, but he has a gut feeling like he’s met this guy before.

“Uh, can I get a whiskey on the rocks, and like four shots of tequila?”

The man arches an eyebrow, nodding. “Sure thing. Rough night?”

Castiel isn’t one to spill his innermost thoughts and feelings to strangers, but Meg’s not back in California until the 21st, and the bartender has such a charming familiarity to him, that Castiel thinks spilling his secrets over alcohol isn’t the worst idea he’s had tonight. And besides, it sort of comes with the territory of being a bartender.

“That’s an understatement.” Castiel replies, voice dry, “Let me get drunk and I’m sure I’ll tell you all about it.”

The bartender smiles, warm and radiant, and Castiel thinks that it reminds him of someone else. Of someone who hardly ever smiled, but when he did, it outshone anyone else in the room. “No worries man, that’s what I’m here for.”

He watches as the bartender pour his drinks and sits them down in front of him onto the cracked wooden bar. The liquid looks heavenly in the crystal glass, and Castiel downs two of the shots before he can start comparing the glass to his own life struggles. Really, being a writer is great, but it sucks when all he can do is compare his life to shot glasses in a bar.

The bartender disappears to the end of the bar, and Castiel is left alone with his thoughts. He takes a long sip from his whiskey, thankful for the burn as it slides down his throat. Maybe it’s recompense. Maybe he deserves the misery. After all, it’s his fault, and his fault entirely, that his life fell apart after he left.

But, damn it, how in the hell was he supposed to make that decision at nineteen? He was a teenager. He had hopes and dreams and wanted nothing to tie him down. Nineteen is the age that you’re supposed to be worried about the zits on your face and who you’re taking to the prom. You’re not supposed to be worried about a broken engagement and a broken promise. There was never really a choice, he had known from the beginning that he would choose California, choose college, over anything here. Castiel just hadn’t expected it to hurt so damn much, and he hadn’t expected to be reliving the decision fourteen years later.

He doesn’t regret all of it. He doesn’t regret the memories he’s made in California. Not his degree, or meeting Meg, or any of it that followed. He just regrets not knowing, regrets not trying harder to make things work before he left. He doesn’t regret the things that happened, he just regrets the things that might have.

Before he can drag himself down that road again, Castiel downs the last two shots in quick succession before polishing off the rest of his whiskey. If he’s going soul searching, at the very least he needs to be drunk.

He flags down the bartender for another shot and downs it as soon as the glass hits the bar in front of him. Cas doesn’t miss the expression the man gives him, but he shrugs off his concern. His hand finds the rectangle package in his left pocket, and for the first time that day, he’s grateful he thought far enough ahead to buy a pack of cigarettes. He had figured he’d end up here. Not necessarily Rocky’s bar, but he figured he’d end up drunk and lonely. The perfect pairing for a Newport.

The walk to the front door is almost easy, although he sways just a little when he first slides off the stool. As he steps outside, the wind picks up, flying through his hair almost ferociously. Castiel pulls a cigarette from the package, cupping his hands around the end as he lights it with his lucky lighter. The first taste of smoke across his tongue is almost a relief.

As he stands there, back pressed up against the wood behind him, roof above him, and rain falling down, he can’t help but remember the summer after his senior year. Remembers the sneaking around, the stolen kisses, and the moment that ruined it all. He remembers the confession, standing there in the pouring rain trying to find the words that refused to come to him. Trying to find words to explain that he had to leave, that whatever waited here for him was nothing compared to what awaited him in California.

Most of all, he remembers the look on his fiance’s face. Remembers the stricken look, betrayal obvious in the glint of his green eyes.

He thinks that if he could redo any moment in his life, that’d be the one he’d choose. Instead of saying no, of throwing everything they had away, he’d choose something else. Not to stay, but to try. Long distance is hard, everyone knows that, but what they had was solid. What they had was real and pure and he had let it wash away with the Kansas rain.

He smashes his cigarette out under his shoe and goes back inside.

The alcohol in his system becomes more noticeable after his cigarette, and his vision is blurry as he reclaims his seat at the near empty bar. Running his fingers through his never quite tameable hair, Castiel closes his eyes.

“You need another drink?”

Castiel looks up into the hazel eyes of the bartender, and wishes they were green.

“Just another whiskey.”

“I’ll have to take your keys if you keep drinking like this.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh he doesn’t actually feel and motions to himself, “Not to worry, I’m in no state to drive. My hotel’s right across the street.”

“Okay good.” The bartender replies, “Consider this one on the house then. Looks like you could use it.”

A moment later a glass is placed down in front of him, and Castiel rubs his finger against the rim.

“You wanna talk about what’s on your mind?” The bartender asks, and Castiel’s finally drunk enough that it seems like a perfect idea.

“If you don’t mind hearing about it.”

The man smiles again, nice and handsome, and Castiel can’t seem to remember where he’s seen those dimples before. “If you want to talk, I want to listen.”

He doesn’t really know where to start, so he blurts out, “My brother got married today.”

“I see,” The bartender says, “You in love with his wife or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Just brought up some memories that I’d rather not think about.” Cas explains, “I was engaged once, a long time ago. Years ago actually, and it didn’t end well. I let him get away, and tonight just reminded me of what I could have had. It’s actually the reason I tend to avoid weddings.”

“Why did you let him get away?” The bartender says, leaning against the bar with his head propped in his hand, like he actually cares about Castiel’s story.

“It’s complicated, and I know everyone says that, but it really was. We were dumb and stupid, just out of high school, and it seemed like everything I wanted served on a silver platter. He proposed the day after high school graduation, and I - of course - said yes. He was everything I’d ever wanted, everything I’ll always want, but we hadn’t thought about the future. I thought we’d have time to figure everything out, thought that a love like the one I felt for him was invincible, like nothing would ever be able to come between us.”

“But something did?”

“A couple weeks after we were engaged, I got accepted into my dream program at Stanford.” Cas tells him, “I had thought it was perfect. Thought that everything I wanted was finally coming together. And when I told Dean, he told me he didn’t want to leave.”

“Dean?” The man asks, eyebrow raised. If Castiel was sober, he would have figured it out right then. He would have known why the bartender looked so damn familiar, but the alcohol in his system has severely deprived him of his more deductive reasoning skills, so he continues on without pause.

“Dean, my fiance, he told me he didn’t want to leave Kansas. This was his home, this was where his friends were, his family. He had a job lined up, and he wasn’t ready to leave it all behind for a place like California. I was naïve to think he would, one of the reasons I love him so much is because of his loyalty, but I still hoped, prayed he’d change his mind.”

“But he didn’t?”

“No, he didn’t. We just avoided the conversation for a while, didn’t want to say what we both already knew. And then when I finally brought it up, we fought. He told me I couldn’t ask him to leave behind everything he ever knew for me. And I was hurt, and stupid, and young, so I called it off. Told him I didn’t see a future for us if he didn’t come with me, and we didn’t speak for a month. And then the day before I left for Stanford he showed up at my house. Pelted my window with rocks until I finally went outside. We were standing there in the pouring rain, just like it is now, and he told me he loved me. Said he always would, that I was the one for him. He told me we could make it work, that we could do long distance, and I looked him in the eyes and told him if he wasn’t going to come with me, then I didn’t want to be with him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Cas says out of instinct, “I know it’s stupid to still be caught up in something that happened more than a decade ago, but the look on his face when I told him I didn’t want him anymore,” He pauses, “I’ll never get that look out of my head. I had ripped him apart, tore everything he thought he’d never lose right out of his chest, and I’ve never forgiven myself for it. I still think about him almost every day. I dream about him, see him disappear around corners in a city I know he isn’t in. It’s pathetic, and I know it, but some things just stick with you.”

“You have to forgive yourself for that, man. You were a kid, you didn’t think you had a choice.”

“That’s not even the worst part though.” Castiel replies, words slurring together, “I can’t forgive myself because I’m still not over him. Hell, it’s been 14 years and I’m still not over him. I don’t think I’ll ever be over him. Dean was the one, and I let him slip from my hands because I was too stubborn to see anyway other than my own.”

The bartender nods, eyes full of pity and sorrow.

“I guess I just wish I could see him now. I want to make sure he’s okay, that he’s doing well. I just hope that he’s managed to do what I never could, that he’s moved on from the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

He drains the rest of his whiskey and the bartender moves to refill it for him. He yawns, suddenly aware of how damn tired he is. The weight from his shoulders isn’t lifted, but it’s lightened, and he wonders why he doesn’t talk about his feelings more often.

The glass is returned in front of him, and the bartender makes a motion towards the end of the bar and then disappears and Castiel is left alone.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at the chipped wood on the bar, and wondering why he’s such an idiot.

The door opens behind him, and he feels the cold night air seep into the bar. When he looks back up at the bar, intent to cash in his tab and head out, his eyes find the bartender. He’s just down the bar, talking to a pretty woman with blonde hair and an easy smile.

“Winchester!” Someone from further down the bar calls, and Castiel watches - panic slowly coursing through his veins - as the bartender looks in the direction of the man who yelled.

It all clicks immediately. The smile, the dimples, the recognition, the last name.

“Thanks Sam,” The man says, and the bartender smiles at him.

“Sure thing, man.”

Sam.

Sam Winchester.

Dean Winchester’s younger brother.

Someone drops into the seat next to him, and Castiel swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat. He spent his night telling Dean’s younger brother about how he’s still in love with Dean.

“It’s been a long time,” The man next to him speaks, and Castiel freezes.

No matter how long it’s been, no matter how much that voice has changed, he would recognize it instantly.

He looks over slowly, worried that all of this is some elaborate drunken induced dream, and sees the man next to him. It’s Dean, because of course it is, and even though he’s fourteen years older, he somehow looks exactly the same. Cas lets his eyes follow the contours of his face, taking in the still crooked curve of his nose, the shadow of his eyelashes, and the pouty purse of his lips. And those eyes, still the same shimmering shade of green that has haunted Castiel for the past decade, that have followed him in dreams and reality alike.

He looks at Dean’s small smile, and it feels like coming home.

“Heya Cas,” Dean says, his tone soft, “Heard you missed me.”

_fin_


End file.
